


Our Nation of Two

by eternalbreath



Series: Habits of Highly Effective Families [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: M/M, Parent/Child Incest, the fandom hell bus has arrived honk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-08
Updated: 2010-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-13 23:29:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalbreath/pseuds/eternalbreath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I never only have second thoughts."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Nation of Two

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Same As It Never Was](https://archiveofourown.org/works/134394) by [justira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justira/pseuds/justira), [seventhe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhe/pseuds/seventhe). 



His suite is dark when he gets in, but Squall's gunblade is leaning against the massive bed. Squall never turns the lights on when he breaks into Laguna's hotel rooms. It's cute.

Laguna sheds his jacket, drops it over the back of the chair. He'll need it the morning for the next round of interviews. It's late, his hands still smell like the shrimp sauce from dinner, and Kiros is worried, but Kiros always worries when Laguna involves himself in the politics of Timber. He's lost another cufflink — another thing for the handler Kiros gave him to complain about tomorrow.

Squall is, predictably, on the balcony, his dress blues faded to black in the night, the light from the city catching on the brass and silver. The breeze catches his hair, twirls the long strands — maybe too long now, almost like Laguna's was when he was that age — and Laguna's heart clenches, because he's so beautiful.

Squall turns when Laguna pushes open the glass door. "There you are," he says, eyes bright. "You're late, and today of all days."

"You didn't see me? You could've hinted you were leaving." Laguna says. "It was a big event, I was a very important guest." Squall had seen him at the banquet, but Laguna had caught his eye and known that he wouldn't leave his wife's side on the night of her big win. "Congratulations."

Squall laughs. Laguna's breath didn't catch anymore when he did it — he and Rinoa had been together too long for it to be out of place. "Thanks. I'll let her know."

"Leaving her alone on such a big night?" Laguna asks.

The look Squall gives him is scorching, and is full of the past, all the times they've danced this dance before, going on years now. "She's exhausted, wanted to sleep." Squall smiles. "She basically kicked me out, we've been in each other's pockets for weeks."

"Ah, permission granted by the boss," Laguna says. "I'll be sure to thank her at the charity auction tomorrow."

"I'm just a pretty toy to you both, aren't I? You trade me like favors to each other." Squall asks, with the air of someone who knows he's well-loved, and cherished. He's spoiled with it. Laguna and Rinoa have seen to that.

"The prettiest one in the whole store," Laguna says, and just to make Squall smile. "I liked you best." He joins Squall at the railing, and reaches out for his buttons when he automatically turns in to face Laguna. "You have mastered the art of looking dashing and also like you could slit a throat in five seconds at the same time," he says. "It's the hair."

"They talk about the family resemblance," Squall murmurs. "I kind of like it."

Laguna rubs a thumb across his jaw. "I still think you look more like your mother."

"Well, that's romantic." Squall looks at him in the way he does, when Laguna is unbuttoning him and also talking about Raine, looks at him with that foggy, desperate look he had had the first time they had done this, Laguna on so many drugs from the surgery, and Squall had kissed him like he would vanish, float away. It's not a good look — it's wrong, it's slick with everything that's twisted in his power over Squall. It makes Laguna want to drop to his knees every time he sees it.

He doesn't give into the urge this time, just drops his hands down, loosens buttons, and steps back. "You should come to bed, Commander."

Squall's lips twitch. "Yes sir, Mr. President."

When the door is closed, the city shut out, curtains drawn, that's when Laguna reaches out and takes what he's wanted all day, all week, since he arrived for the last few days before the election in the Republic of Timber. Squall is so often out of reach, and it helps, because he doesn't pine so much and cause Kiros and Ward to worry. He always makes them worry, but oh, if they knew this. If they knew.

Squall is warm and willing under his hands, arching into his plams, and Laguna's already so hard it hurts. He pulls open the buttons on Laguna's shirt with concentration, pushes it off like it's offended him. "God," he says. "You wear this suit on _purpose_." He pushes Laguna's hands away to attack his undershirt and then his belt. "You wear it to fuck with me."

"You bought it for me," Laguna says. "And why not, if that's the only way any fucking is happening?" Laguna is rewarded when Squall drags his pants and underwear off in the small movement, and Laguna almost says something, god, but his vision whites out, and Squall moves away to drape his pants somewhere safe. It's not enough to set him off but he's still on fire. He wants to laugh and cry at the same time because he's not young anymore and it should take the wind out of sails.

It won't. He missed too many years of saying yes to Squall, and he apparently wants to make it up to him one orgasm at a time.

"You look thoughtful," Squall says, quietly, and he's come back to Laguna bare, smooth skin and hard dick pressed into Laguna's hip. His breath stutters. "More second thoughts?"

"I never have only second thoughts." Laguna cups Squall's shoulders. "I am on thought number two hundred and sixty seven of why I shouldn't be doing this. I started counting when I opened the door."

"I'm not doing a good job, then. That's a lousy number," Squall says, and then he's gone, dropped the to floor to surround Laguna in so much wet heat that his knees almost buckle, his hands on Squall's shoulders the only thing keeping him upright.

Squall licks a long stripe up the line of his cock, like he's part of a candy collection. Laguna curses himself because god, imagery, and groans when Squall stops and pulls off with a loud pop. "Are you picturing small children _again_?" Squall shoves him back until his thighs hit the edge of the bed. "You always do that."

"Small children with suckers." Laguna laughs, brokenly as they settle on the bed, Squall between his legs, Laguna's thigh on his shoulder.

"Lollipops don't last forever," Squalls reminds him, and he's so _filthy_ — Laguna can't remember if he was this filthy when they started this. "And they don't have a surprise at the end."

Laguna's laugh turns into a moan that almost echoes when Squall hollows his cheeks. Laguna's cock hits the back of his throat, and oh, fuck, it's wrong and right and everything he wants and nothing he can say no to, Squall's mouth on him, Squall's hands pinning his hips, Squall's tongue doing something to the tip of his dick that makes him use words _backwards_.

"I thought about this," Squall says, pulling away and to press a kiss to Laguna's thigh. "You were eating those damn shrimp and licking your fingers."

"No cruelty intended." It's hard to focus with Squall on him, always is, but more so tonight because it's been weeks, weeks since the last time in Dollet.

"Hmm." Squall sucks him back down, moving languid, slow. It's a performance now — Squall knows how long he takes, and he plays him like tight strings, and Laguna answers, broken breaths and choking pleas. Laguna tangles his hands in Squall's hair and lets him, loses himself, because in truth he stopped caring a long time ago about right and wrong. Now it's all about have and have not, and he's always liked having things.

"Hey," Squall says, when Laguna starts bucking against his grip. The pause is maddening, and Laguna wants to, just—god, fuck his mouth. "Not like this."

That draws him up short, and then Squall is crawling up his body, reaching up to push a bottle into his hands. That's not new, but the way Squall moves, Laguna's cock caught in the cleft of Squall's ass, Squall grinding into it, is. It's been years and years since he's asked for it, yet here he is, demanding it as he rocks, sending sparks and making Laguna tingle.

Laguna is so blindsided can can't form words, but he takes the bottle as Squall flips them, muscles straining a little. Squall used to look small under him, but he's filled out over the years, added weight and thickness.

"What's this?" he asks, running a thumb over Squall's nipple, making him jerk. "Opposite day?"

"Rinoa is a president now," Squall murmurs, love in his voice, under the heat as he spreads his legs wide. "Maybe I'm collecting trading cards."

"What a collection." Laguna pops the bottle open, slicks his fingers. "Not a hobby you can share."

"Who cares about anyone else," Squall says, curling a leg around the back of Laguna's thigh. In the almost-dark, he's pale and long and gorgeous, cock twitching on his stomach as he watches Laguna rub wet fingers together, for the first time in years. They had done this before, once, and once was all, because Laguna was a coward and a monster and in love with Squall in all the wrong ways, and Squall wasn't a cruel person to make him face it by pushing his advantage.

Until now.

"Tick tock," Squall whispers. There's no impatience in his voice, but when Laguna touches him, strokes from balls down and press in, he arches his back off the bed and breathes out, a long, silent moan. All the hurry and want is in his thighs as they quiver around Laguna.

"Why now, I wonder." Laguna says it quietly, and Squall huffs out a laugh.

"Trading cards," he says, and he means it to be comforting, code to let Laguna know Rinoa has been here before — has helped him, probably encouraged him because there's nothing she'll deny Squall if it's what he wants. Laguna slides one finger out, adds another, trembling when Squall tightens around him, tries to pull him in. His breath catches, a stacatto beat, the planes of his stomach fluttering as he rocks against Laguna's hand. He doesn't elaborate or explain, but oh, Laguna already knows — he knows, because he's wanted to be taken just like this, for so many years, has left Squall take and take and take until he had everything Laguna is and was and can never get back. Laguna curls his fingers, listens to Squall's voice break. He'll never be done saying yes, he supposes, over and over, even to this question Squall has asked so carefully only once before.

"Hurry up, old man."

"Now you're just playing dirty," Laguna says, trying to keep himself under control at what Squall's voice does to him. He won't ever say the word, not here, but he hints, he uses it, the unnamed weapon in the room as if Squall really needs anymore. Figures he would use it now, asking Laguna to fuck him for the first time since the last disastrous attempt. "I could leave, then where would you be."

"But you won't." Squall hums, arches up. "Please, come on."

And isn't that the truth, and it's the plea that has Laguna pulling his hand away, running a slick hand over his dick and pressing in one long, slow push, feeling Squall around him, on him, under him in his head as he cries out. Laguna pauses, hangs his head, and tries not to break apart, because he may be old and terrible, but he still _wants_.

"Oh," Squall says, and clenches, and it sends fireworks up Laguna's spine. " _Oh_."

"Different when it's real," Laguna says, wrecked and sweating.

"Don't criticize Rinoa while she's not here," Squall says, voice raspy as he rocks his hips up. "It will be better this time." He's all easy confidence, trust, but it makes Laguna remember the last time and he hates that Squall remembers it and has to comfort him. "Move already, I'm not going to break."

Squall wraps a leg around Laguna's waist and pulls, shoving him deeper, and Laguna is lost. He slides out and back in, and then he's shoving forward like he has no control at all. Squall lets Laguna bend him and take him, open and loose and greedy. He claws at Laguna's skin and makes noises every time Laguna fucks in, somewhere between whimpers and moans, words Laguna can't catch breaking from his mouth. Laguna presses forward, curls a hand around Squall's cock and pulls, and Squall keens, mouth open and face flushed, hair sticking to his skin, and then he smiles, lazy and leering all at once.

Laguna traces a thumb up the underside of Squall cock as he rocks into him, and is reward when Squall arches up hard to follow and comes all over Laguna's hand, no warning and no noise but a breathless gasp, Squall's eyes on him the entire time, and Laguna presses in once more as Squall tightens around him and follows him over, buried inside so deep he knows he's never going to find his way out.

Not ever.

When Laguna peels himself up one of five or ten minutes later — and that should not be arousing, but it is — and moves away, Squall protests, mumbled words Laguna doesn't pay attention to. He shifts up and looks at Squall, well-fucked and pliant under him, come smeared all over his stomach, and Laguna's heart catches, because he's gorgeous and his, _his_ , and Laguna loves him, desperately.

"You look so pleased with yourself," Laguna says.

"You're not crying," Squall says, and Laguna's breath catches on the memory, "so I've done my part."

"All for my benefit, was it?" Laguna can't resist running his hands over Squall's thighs, sticky and damp. "You can't blame me, last time was terrible."

"I was nineteen and stupid," Squall says.

"And now you're twenty nine and smug," Laguna says, and he slips out of the bed. "Is that an improvement?"

"Whatever." Squall says it with a smile. "Shower?"

Laguna pauses. "You're staying?" Squall doesn't stay, not in cities that aren't Esthar. He dresses and leaves and Laguna showers scent of sex away and sleeps alone, because it's foolish to get cocky, to think they'll be safe.

"Why not?" Squall asks. "You don't give your staff keys to your hotel room, do you?"

"No."

Squall practically stalks out of the bed, and Laguna finds himself pressed against the wall. Squall leans forward and kisses him, mouth determined and warm, asking, always asking, and Laguna is never saying no. Squall knows he's never saying no.

"Hmm," Squal says, noncommittal when he pulls away, and he heads for the bathroom across the room and Laguna watches him go, tight muscles under smooth skin, darkened in places where Laguna held too hard, the curve of his ass. Laguna could touch him and he would still be fucked open and loose, and Squall would let him, would arch back on his fingers, and god, he wants him again.

Squall stops at the bathroom door and looks over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. "Laguna," he says, soft, and Laguna is many things, a father and a monster, a man in love and cursed, but he's not _stupid_.

"Coming," he says, and follows.

**Author's Note:**

> This was definitely started as a cheer-gift for Ira and Sev to encourage them in their work on Same as it Never Was, or, colloquially, HONK. I don't even know where this came from, but I guess it turned out okay! HONK MY LIFE.


End file.
